The Fault in our Stars

John Green's novel about two teenagers falling in love whilst living with cancer is so much more than a book for "YA" young adults. Although the premise sounds like a straight forward story of ill-fated young love with the potential for schmaltz and tears, what makes it so special and a fantastic read is the philosophical and almost fourth wall breaking approach by the author. The dialogue is witty and sharp, with the two young lovers sparring and delving into deep discussions over mortality.

Having read a novel, "An Imperial Affection", which ends mid sentence, Hazel and Augustus are so frustrated to know what happened to the characters after the story ends, that they travel to Amsterdam to try and find answers from the author. The author has become a drunk nihilist following his own daughter's death by cancer and refuses to give them any clues - they are just characters in a novel and when the story ends, they cease to exist.

Does this apply to real life to? Once all those people that remember us have passed away, are we no better than a fictional character?

The Two Faces of January

Having read quite a few Patricia Highsmith novels, I should have guessed the set up for the Two Faces of January, as they are all very similar. There is invariably a couple and an interloper, who becomes drawn to either one of the two and stalks them, becoming tangled in their lives and gradually building to a climax of tragedy.
One of the trio usually dies at the hands of another in the group and the remaining two play a cat and mouse game between themselves and the authorities.
Having read this scenario before, it was still a surprise to me when the pivotal death occurred, but after this it fell into familiar territory and dragged on a bit towards the end.
The highlight for this novel, and I guess for the film makers, is that the plot is set in some great European backdrops - Athens, Crete and Paris. 

In Secret (Therese Raquin)

It's been a while since I read any Zola, so I picked up Therese Raquin under the impression that it was going to be a story of passionate forbidden love. Bored and stifled Therese marries the weak and dull Camille but is then introduced to his rakish friend Laurent. Immediately they connect and embark on a secret relationship. So far so expected, but then Zola takes us into the realms of Gothic horror and dark sensationalism which is almost overwhelming in its heightened language and pitch of despair.
Unable to live without each other, desperate and worried that they will no longer be able to conceal their feelings from the watching eyes of Mme Raquin and her weekly Thursday soiree guests, they decide to murder Camille. There are passages of extreme ghoulish melodrama - Camille biting a chunk out of Laurent's neck as he is lifted and thrown overboard into the Seine to drown, descriptions of morgue bodies (people were allowed to come and view the dead out of curiosity!) as Laurent seeks confirmation that Camille has died, the horrific treatment of a cat that torments the guilty murderers by its judging stare.
It was the first of Zola's novels to gain him any notoriety and caused a scandal at the time of its publication. I loved the nihilism, and the dark ending was perfect.

     

The Sea

The book is not something to read if you are looking for a pacy novel. It reminded me a bit of Ishiguru's Remains of the Day in its leisurely pace and lack of plot. Banville loves words and its often a delight to discover new descriptions of familiar scenes - "Beyond was the railway line paved with jagged loose blue shale and giving off its mephitic whiff of ash and gas."

Following the death of his wife from cancer, Max Morden goes to stay in a boarding house by the sea, where he had his first childhood romance. The story flows in and out from his childhood, recent past and present, with no separation of chapter or scene. The reason for this becomes clear, as the narrator is often drunk and maudlin, reflecting on happier times but also the tragedies in his life. He has been drawn to the scene of happier times but also earlier tragedy, and to the reader its clear that the visit to pick over his past is not a good choice for his state of mind.

Divergent

Divergent is set in a future where society is divided into factions based on character traits or virtues - a Belbin test taken to the extreme. The groups are Erudite (interested in accumulating knowledge); Candor (those that tell it as it is); Amity (peace loving): Abnegation (selfless) and Dauntless (adrenaline junkies). In a Belbin test, the answer is that elements of all the different traits are ideal but being a "Divergent" in the novel is to be an outsider and dangerous. 

The book is a page turner and a quick read but quite why society is divided up into these groups is never fully realised and its clear that this system is not one that could ever be sustainable - they all dislike and mistrust each other and there seems to be no production or manufacturing. 

When Beatrice chooses Dauntless over her family's Abnegation, the story takes us into an in depth initiation into the Dauntless faction. This takes up most of the book and does feel similar to the Hunger Games in pitting fellow teens against each other to see who succeeds the trials.